


Loops

by brilliantbrioche



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantbrioche/pseuds/brilliantbrioche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has a bit of a breakdown in the boys toilets and Enjolras is there to witness it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loops

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Grantaire is having a panic attack and suicidal thought throughout this fic so please do not read if this could upset/trigger you.
> 
> Not beta'd - all mistakes are my own.

“Are you okay?” The question came from a golden god.

Grantaire stayed slumped on the floor of the boys bathroom. _No,_ he thought, _no I am definitely not okay._ After a few more seconds another question rolled through his mind, _what the fuck am I?_ The thought got stuck and soon it was looping. He couldn’t think anything but that question, no matter how hard he tried to push it out. _WhatthefuckamI? WhatthefuckamI? WhatthefuckamI?_ It kept coming back so hit his head once, twice, three times. _Go away. Go away. Go away._ He blocked it with pictures and other thoughts but then he pictured it, immortalizing it, crashing through his walls and taking centre stage. He was doing it to himself, he knew this, he was in control, people are in control of what they think. _I am doing this to myself._

_You fucking fat bastard, you’re fucking doing this to yourself. Just kill yourself. Just do it. Make it all go away. You deserve to fucking die. You’re fucking disgusting how can you even look at yourself. You’re vile, no one wants to see you or hear what you say. Nothing you do has any meaning, you’re pointless. Kill yourself._

_Please._

“Grantaire.” an urgent voice. _Behold the god speaks again._ “Grantaire, please, please stop it, please.” _Never heard a god beg before._

He felt cold fingers brush against his flushing skin, testing, making sure he wouldn’t pull away. He felt the presence of the _god_ in front of him and flinched slightly, thoughts still looping and skipping in his mind. They sang and jumped over rope. The little bastards just wouldn’t _GO AWAY._

“Grantaire.” His voice was more certain now, sure of what actions he was making; each movement a well thought out plan. Strong hands griped his shoulders and tried to move his body out, opening him up to the harsh air of the world. _Too much._

_Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much._

The boy scattered, moving out from the weight pressed on top of him. Legs sprawling he dragged himself up so his own red, tear-ridden face was level with the marble eyes of the marble god. 

“WHAT AM I ENJOLRAS? WHAT AM I?” A raw screeching emitted from his mouth, his voice broken but clear. “WHAT AM I?” The scream went on for longer this time and he began to close in on himself, drawing his arms into his chest and covering is face. His hands trailing across and trying to close the gaping hole that betrayed him. All his loops were falling out. His breath was uneven and caught in his chest, the supply of air getting shorter and shorter as his words bubbled out. “I just want to feel something. I just want to feel something.” He sobbed, falling to the floor and repeating the little mantra he had just claimed as his own.

Enjolras was still there, staring down at his friend who was doing some fucking shit he didn’t understand. He had no idea, he just wanted it all to stop, for his friend to be alright. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to be alright. Jesus fucking Christ nothings ever really ‘ok’ is it? We’re all fucking empty. 

The light sheen of sweat that had been covering Grantaire from the start had gotten heaver and sweat was now beading in the cracks of his face.

“Just go away.” His voice was a whisper, directed at the motionless statue standing a meter or two away.

The statue moved, first a step closer and then another and then more until he was standing in front of him again. He wouldn’t touch him. He had leant from that mistake.

“I’m going to get help, okay?” Enjolras asked uncertainly, although it was more of a broken statement. There wasn’t a response. “I’m going to come back. I’m not going to leave you.” He added after a second, more sure of himself this time.

He left. The door swung shut with a light thud. Grantaire was alone, his scrawny body entwined within itself and his hair sleek with sweat and stuck to his face.

_There’s a razor in the bag, a knife at home. Pills are in the cupboard, along with a rope._


End file.
